Just Float

Your Father has not always been the virtue. He's not always been the vice. He's always been somewhere between both of those things.

He's not unique in that. He's the bell curve. He's Soy Happy Vacant. Like Everybody Else.

But I'm your Father.

So listen this time.

Life is fucked up. There are days when we fall asleep content and fulfilled and there are days when we don't fall asleep at all. We all set out on this journey without a map, without a course of guidelines, without a damn compass, even.

Regardless, we all set out. We had no choice.

I want to tell you about a stream. It meanders just north of here. It pushes up out of the ground and cascades its way over rocks and drops. It pushes everything it has ever been, down. Gravity makes sure of that. It constantly tries to find its way. That is its purpose. That is what it does Best.

But it is so much more pure than you will ever be. And it has no will.

You can't waste your time trying to be like that stream. You'll never achieve that. The best you can do is try to be the leaf that floats atop it, finding its own way down.

You'll end up stuffed up against a piece of limestone, that's a given. You'll end up mired in a pool of stagnant muck, that's a given. You'll end up clinging to a piece of bloated wood, that's a given.

But eventually all of those things will give way and you'll find yourself swift with intention.

So don't worry about the muddy shore, the proud stone, the circling pool, or the broken branches.

In the end you'll either wind up a dried out fragment of what you once were, on some creek bank, or you'll end up bloated and slowly tearing apart... beneath the crushing depths.

Both are Honorable Ends... as long as you appreciate the Ride.

Ever After never cared about You... so don't care about It.

Just float while you can.